


Principal Means of Escape

by Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Child Abuse, Dark, Incest, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Teenchesters, Trauma, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, dark wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor/pseuds/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor
Summary: Dean finds out that John has been whoring Sammy out to his hunter friends.Based on an anon story prompt on Tumblr.The title comes from this quote by Bertrand Russell: “Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse; it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness which afflicts most men & women throughout the greater part of their lives.”





	Principal Means of Escape

Dean sat at the small dinette table in the non-descript motel room, his sawed off shotgun laid out on the table in front of him. The curtains were pulled, keeping the flickering glare of neon out of the room except for what came through a small crack he left to be able to see outside. He honestly wasn’t sure what he expected to see outside – for all that he knew, John wasn’t even aware that he & Sam had left yet. And if he had, Dean wasn’t sure whether he’d try to follow them.

Dean had driven as if John was hunting them down. He’d sped straight down the Interstate, just trying for distance. To get away. Every gas stop had been cash only & he’d done his best to not be memorable, even going so far as to park away from the gas station & walk over with a gas can rather than risk someone noticing the Impala. He’d barely stopped for sleep, giving himself 20 or 30 minutes at a time, with Sam curled up across the benchseat, head in Dean’s lap. Then he’d left the Interstate, heading deeper into some random city, hoping to get lost in the swarm of people. Dean wasn’t going to chance Sammy would wind up back in John’s custody.

He glanced back over at the single bed in the middle of the room. It was a queen size, which just made Sammy look smaller as he huddled up in a ball under Dean’s leather jacket.

Dad’s – John’s – jacket. The one John had given him a few years back after a successful hunt. The one John had tossed his way with a half-compliment about Dean’s good work. The older boy had practically burst with pride at the time. Now, the memory had bile rising in the back of his throat & Dean wanted to throw the garment away. But Sammy had clutched at it so tightly when Dean first wrapped him up in it that the older boy didn’t have the heart to risk upsetting him just then.

This was the first restful sleep Sammy had gotten since Dean had walked into their motel room to find some big, burly bear of a man lying on the bed with Sam straddling his hips. The man had been shirtless, his pants pushed down to his ankles, with one beefy hand wrapped around Sammy’s throat.

The younger boy still had bruises on his pale, pretty skin.

Sam had been all dolled up in some cheap Halloween costume version of a cheerleader outfit, complete with knee-high socks & makeup. Even though Dean had washed Sammy’s face, he imagined he could still see the tear-streaked mascara down those sharp cheeks.

Dean swallowed & looked back out the small slit in the curtains, fingers tightening on the shotgun as his memory took over.

**** **** ****

Dean paused outside the door, head cocked to the side as he listened to the squeak of bedsprings. He shook his head, laughing softly at the imagined image of his fourteen-year-old little brother acting like a kid & bouncing on the bed. But then he heard the soft rasp of a moan & his grin turned darker. Sounded like Sammy was doing a little more than just bouncing on the bed.

The older boy licked his lips, tongue drawing the lower one back between his teeth as he listened. The two boys had danced around each other for the last few years, finally giving in to soft, stolen kisses & barely-there touches. Dean had tried fighting it at first, figuring it was some kind of wrong to feel the things he felt for his little brother, but Sammy & he were just too tight knit. They were so wrapped around one another that he figured it was all but inevitable.

His immediate fear after having given in to Sam’s soft eyes & even softer kisses was what John might do if he found out. The older man had been watching them closely for awhile – it was one of the reasons why Dean had pushed so hard against giving in. But then John had started talking about Spartans during their training sessions & how the soldiers had sometimes been brothers & more than brothers & it had made them better fighters.

It was almost as if John had been encouraging them to get together.

Still, Dean had insisted on going slow, not wanting to risk hurting Sammy. The younger boy insisted he was able to handle it, that he was ready, but Dean still took it slow. It was also a little selfish on his part – Dean wanted to savor every single touch, taste, & experience.

Dean heard another gasp through the thin motel door & stepped over to the window to peer through the curtains. He’d never miss a chance to see the way Sammy’s face screwed up with pleasure as he came. He’d expected to see Sam laid out on the bed, maybe nude, more likely with his jeans open at his hips, hand thrust inside – his little brother could be an impatient little bitch.

But what he saw instead…

In seconds, Dean kicked open the door, for once not caring about the salt lines. The door knob imbedded itself in the drywall, keeping the door open as Dean stormed through. The man on the bed cursed at the sudden intrusion, but Sam was glassy eyed – barely conscious as the man’s hand kept squeezing around his throat.

“Let him go!” Dean growled, reaching for the man’s hand.

“I paid for the full hour. Wait your fucking –”

Whatever else the man had planned to say was lost as Dean pulled a knife from his belt & put it up against his throat, the edge already making the skin turn pale from the pressure.

“Let him go & I swear to God if you hurt him, I’ll cut your dick off & shove it down your own throat.”

The other man released Sam’s throat & Dean nearly blacked out with rage at the way his little brother’s eyes slammed open at the first full breath he’d taken in who knew how long. He pushed the knife in harder against the man’s throat as he reached down & gripped Sam’s hips, fingers pushing that little, cheap cheer skirt even higher over his thin legs. Sam moaned a little as he was pulled off the other man’s cock & allowed to gently fall over to the side.

“Look,” the man tried again. “John said I had an hour with him. I want my money back.” He half grinned. “Unless you’re looking to double the offer. I like a little fight sometimes. John only charged for one cunt, but if I could have two for the same price…”

This time Dean didn’t hold himself back. The knife slid through the man’s throat like it was paper, his eyes popping wide like he hadn’t actually considered the young man would follow through on his violent threat. Dean tossed the knife aside, rushing around to the other side of the bed.

“Sammy? Sammy, open your eyes…”

“De?” Those hazel eyes were dim & bloodshot as Dean gently pulled Sam off the bed & away from the dying man. He dropped to the floor, crossing his legs & pulling Sam into his lap. Dean swallowed hard at the dark purple bruises around Sam’s throat & forced himself to look Sam over as close as he could. His little thighs were covered in sweat & lube, but there wasn’t any blood.

“De, is it over? Is he done?” Sam blinked at him, reaching one gangly arm around Dean’s neck. “Is it finally your turn? Am I good enough to take you yet?”

“Sammy, shhh. Just… are you…”

“Dad said…” Sam’s eyes dropped closed & his head fell forward to rest against Dean’s chest. “Said I had to get good at it so I could make you feel good when you fucked me.”

Dean swallowed bile, his arms tight around Sam’s body as so many things clicked into place.

All those “hunting buddies” who’d drop by & then John would send Dean out for booze or food or training – but never Sam. _I’ll watch him, Dean. Do what I say, boy._ Sam was almost always sleeping or showering whenever Dean would come back & the “hunting buddy” would be long gone. The way Sam would look determined whenever Dean would force him to go slow if he reached for Dean’s jeans or tried to get another kiss. The way he’d deflate a little whenever Dean would tell him _“Not yet, Sammy… someday….”_

“Sammy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Sammy…”

He was going to kill their father. He was going to sit right here & wait for him to come back & then he was going to beat the man into a bloody pulp. For every son of a bitch who had ever touched Sammy.

The man on the bed made a final twitch & a gurgling sound escaped his throat. Dean flinched, coming back to the present. His face pale as he looked up at the bloody mess of the bed.

Shit.

“Sammy. Sammy, come on. We… We gotta…” Dean forced himself to his feet, trying to help Sam & not just drag him up. There were other bruises on Sam’s arms & legs & Dean didn’t want to add anymore. There had always been bruises on Sam’s body, but Dean had accepted the excuses John & Sam had given him about training or gym class.

He had thought about it before. Of sucking pale bruises into Sam’s throat or biting love marks into his chest, but now the thought of it made him feel a little sick.

“De? What…”

“Need to get you cleaned up, Sammy. Shower. Change your clothes. Then we gotta go. C’mon…”

**** **** ****

A car door slammed & Dean blinked, looking out the window. There was a big man lumbering around the end of a car & for a moment, Dean froze. The man walked under a flickering light, revealing a face Dean had never seen before. His shoulders dropped in relief, breathing heavily as tension left him.

“Jesus.”

Sam shifted on the bed, a soft whimper coming from under the jacket. Dean watched for a moment, waiting to see if Sam would calm again. The younger boy had slept most of the time since they’d left the motel room. The first time he’d woken in the car, Sam had been confused. He’d called Dean “sir,” tried to kiss him, & only gone back to sleep when Dean had essentially ordered him down.

The next time had been during one of the brief naps Dean had pulled over to take. He’d woken to find Sam crying, curled up away from Dean against the car door. When Dean had reached for him, Sam had flinched away even further, slapping at Dean’s hand. Then he’d sobbed harder, apologizing. Those words had left Dean frozen for a few moments – _“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”_ – before promising that John wasn’t there. He’d said it, over & over, as Sam launched himself across the car to wrap his arms around Dean’s shoulders, face buried in his shoulder.

That had been when Dean wrapped Sam in his jacket. The younger boy had clutched at it, curling up to lay his head against Dean’s thigh as he cried himself to sleep. When Dean had carried Sam into the motel room, he’d immediately burrowed deeper into it.

Dean got up as Sam continued to shift & sniffle. “Sammy? You’re alright, little brother.” He headed to the bed, ducking down to be in Sam’s eyeline.

“De?”

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m here.”

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. He brushed Sam’s hair back, feeling better when Sam didn’t flinch away from him. His eyes seemed clearer now, which was good. The dim light of the motel room made the shadows under his eyes & around his throat even darker though, & that had Dean breathing deep. The need to kill the son of a bitch who’d put those bruises there rose in him all over again.

Sam shifted, the leather of the coat squeaking softly with the motion. Dean glanced over at the window & the door, feeling a small reluctance at abandoning his watch for long, but Sam let out another soft sigh & Dean couldn’t resist. He lay down across the bed facing Sam. After a few moments of silence, Sam spoke.

“What happened to Dad’s friend?”

Dean swallowed hard, pausing for a moment. “He’s gone. Not coming back, either. None of ‘em are, Sammy. Ever.”

Sam didn’t flinch at the hardness of Dean’s tone, but the older boy could see the way the coat shifted as Sam drew it in closer around himself.

“Did… did you kill him?”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean didn’t hesitate to say it. “He’s never gonna hurt you again, little brother.”

Sam’s eyes were bright, shining as they looked at Dean. He didn’t know if it was from unshed tears or just the way the bruising made them stand out more.

“Good,” came Sam’s answer, almost too soft to hear. “Dad will… he’ll be mad.” Sam swallowed, those eyes showing fear now, but he didn’t stop. “He’ll be mad, but I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Dad’s not here either, Sammy. And he’s not gonna be. Ever. So you don’t have to worry about him being mad, ok?”

Sam nodded, eyes closing. He snaked a hand out from under Dean’s coat & Dean immediately grabbed it, squeezing those slender fingers tight. They stayed that way for a few more moments before Sam spoke again.

“Are… are you mad at me, De?” his voice was soft, buried under the leather of Dean’s coat.

“What? No!” Dean regretted the sharpness of his tone as Sam flinched again & took a moment to rub his thumb over the back of Sam’s hand. He tried for a more soothing tone. “Why would I be mad at you, Sammy? None of this was your fault.”

“It is, though.” Sam’s breath hitched & he sniffed. He pulled his hand out of Dean’s hold to rub at his face. “I wanted it. I wanted…” He rubbed at his cheeks again, voice wavering. “I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t want him. Or any of them. Not like you. Not…” Sam pushed the coat aside enough to look at Dean, his cheeks tear-stained now.

“Sammy, what…”

“I wanted you. But you kept saying that we… we had to g-go s-slow. I thought, if I… if… if I was better. If I knew how to do it, you know… _right_. To make you feel good, that you’d…”

Dean felt like his chest was filled with cement, making his blood heavy & slow. It was in his mind to speak, to reassure Sam, to curse himself, to call down demons on their father. But all the words hung in his throat, cut off as his lungs couldn’t inflate.

“When Dad… when Dad brought his first… friend…” Sam’s voice broke. “I didn’t want to do it. But Dad said… he said you wanted…” Sam rolled away from Dean, his shoulders shaking. “And then when I tried to say no, to say I didn’t want…” Sam’s teeth worried at his bottom lip. “Dad said he’d tell you that I… that I was… was a –”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Dean growled out, cutting Sam’s words off. He reached out, dragging Sam back against him & wrapping his arms around him. Sam struggled weakly, but soon stilled except for the soft hitching of his body as he sobbed.

“Sammy, you don’t gotta be anything else for me. Don’t gotta be…better or any other bullshit.”

“But you. You wouldn’t… You wouldn’t touch me. Not… not really. Not like… like they did. Like… I wanted you to…”

Dean cinched his arm tighter around Sam’s waist, holding him tight. “Sammy, no. I… I wanted you. I wanted – still want – everything with you. But I wanted it to be…” Dean bit his bottom lip, feeling his cheeks flush at his inability to get his feelings out into the open. “I wanted it to be special, Sammy. To treat you right. Like you deserve.”

Sam was barely breathing in his arms. For a moment, Dean feared he’d said too much, too soon. The younger boy squirmed in his arms & Dean fought for a moment, afraid of letting go in case Sam tried to bolt. Then he realized that Sam was trying to turn over, to face him. Dean allowed him to move. When Sam was facing him, he looked up, eyes bright with unshed tears. He reached out, barely touching a finger along Dean’s cheek.

“You still want me?” Sam asked. If Dean hadn’t been looking at him, seen his mouth move, then he might not even have known the other boy spoke. Dean blinked.

“Well. Yeah. Of course.” He grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling it down to kiss his fingertips. “I’ll always want you, Sammy. Nothing can ever change that.”

Dean could taste Sammy’s tears on his lips when he pressed the barest of kisses to his little brother’s lips. When he pulled back, Sam immediately pressed in closer, head tucked in under Dean’s chin. The older boy tilted his head, lips ghosting over Sam’s hair, his forehead.

“You’re mine, little brother,” he whispered. “Always mine.”

He held Sammy until the younger boy stopped shaking & slipped into an actual sleep. He felt the flutter of his heart slow into a gentler, calmer rhythm. Dean closed his eyes, figuring he could afford a few hours of sleep before he roused Sammy to get some food in him & hit the road again.

He’d promised Sam that John would never have him again. And Dean intended to keep his promise.

END


End file.
